


Forget Me Not

by aestheticxl (orphan_account)



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Adjustment Disorder, Angst with a Happy Ending, Antisocial Personality Disorder, Anxiety, F/M, Flowers, Language of Flowers, Mental Health Issues, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 05:01:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14585523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/aestheticxl
Summary: How can they save each other when they can’t even accept the salvation they were offered?





	1. Narcissus

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing: a.) a Gravity Falls fanfic and b.) a ship fanfic. So expect some really bad parts where I really don’t know what the hell I’m doing haha... Anyways I still hope you guys even though it’s probably bad
> 
> (Also there’s probably a lot of errors since I didn’t reread oof)
> 
> Daffodil: new beginnings

Her chest tightens with each loud tick-tock of the clock that hung above the room’s door frame, maybe it was because she was holding her breath or maybe it was because of the overwhelmingly uncomfortable silence that hung around the atmosphere of the room, but either way she was still nauseous. She could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage that her mind began to wonder why her heart tissues haven’t ripped yet, but the thought was too scientific for her to stay on and her mind immediately wandered to many other things. “You’ve been awfully quiet for a while, are you okay?” The voice sounded so distant even though it was so close, but the sound was enough for her to snap out of whatever trance she was in and start paying attention to her companion.

The pounding and tightening in her chest weren’t as painful as it was a second ago, or maybe she just wasn’t paying attention much to it now and just kind of feels like it’s assuaging. The nausea was also fading and was replaced by cold sweat, an observation that gave her the realization that she never really noticed that she was sweating a lot. The pink cotton sweater could be blamed, but the chilly air coming from the air conditioning that was in the room could prove otherwise. “Yeah, um, sorry. I was lost in my thoughts.” Mabel moved her body to straighten her spine against the back of the chair, as she attempted looking at the fairly young man that sat on the opposite side of the sturdy desk existing in front of her. She can feel her nerves trembling and the awkward feeling of being conscious about the blood that was moving along her blood vessels made her feel slight discomfort, her back began feeling itchy but the sensation soon fades when she tries to discreetly scratch it. “You were talking about California?” She flashed a nervous smile and carefully placed her hands on her lap, her fingers instinctively began fumbling with each other.

The man knew there was something wrong, but merely chose to ignore it for now. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat and copied her earlier action by straightening his back. “You are in the second semester of your sophomore year of high school, and I assumed that since you finished the first semester in California, you planned on finishing the school year there,” He started. Mabel already knew where this conversation was leading, a small part of her had anticipated it the moment her mentally sane great uncles and the school principal had announced to her privately that she would start meeting a counselor every week, and she had mentally prepared herself for it even.

But somehow, symptoms of extreme anxiety was still there.

“If you planned on transferring schools, it would have been wise to pick one that was in your district for convenience, at least even the same state. But instead, here you are,” He continued. Mabel was starting to get even more nervous, a little bit irritated too, because he was dragging the question longer than it should be. She believed nobody had to need to explain their reasoning behind the question, and yet here he is, doing the exact opposite of what she believed. “My point is, why did you transfer to Oregon? Gravity Falls at that.” He finally said it, and just like that, all memories of practice and preparation was forgotten as the poor brunette girl sat on her cushioned wooden seat with an uncomfortable frown.

“It’s a small town, the news should’ve already reached you,” She replied, but that wasn’t exactly what he was looking for. It was subtle, as if he was trying to make it trying to make it hidden, but she could point out the disappointed grimace that formed on his lips. The small gesture was enough to make her feel guilty about the fact that she didn’t have the guts to give him the real answer. “I’m sorry, I still feel uncomfortable talking about the topic,” She briefly explained before looking down at her lap, averting her eyes from the counselor. A sigh escaped his lips as Mabel deduced that he was leaning towards his laptop due to the creaking noise of the swivel chair accompanied by the quick pressing of laptop keys that followed, and she couldn’t help but feel more guilty.

She never really understood why she needed this, well she does, but she didn’t really get why they’re helping her instead of other students that she believes needs this more than she does. The brunette’s mind was filled with hopeless and self-deprecating thoughts, mainly how she was a lost cause and that she’s really not that important so they should give this counseling time to someone who she believes deserve it more than her. She can feel more sweat dripping down her temple, bile rising to her esophagus, her muscles were trembling, and her chest pains started to worsen. Tears threatened to escape, but she had enough will to hold it in before the session ends so she can run to the bathroom to release all the pent up emotions. The jittery girl was lightheaded, fatigue even, and her grip on reality was slowly fading. No, she wasn’t turning schizophrenic like her other great uncle, but instead it’s more of a depersonalization type of unreality.

5 minutes used to never feel so long for Mabel. Right now, all she needed was the bell to ring, which will give the signal that her counseling session of the week is finished and the school day in general is over, so she can run towards the girl’s bathroom and pour all her emotions via the warm tears that falls from her eyes. It was silent, with only minimal noises, but those tiny sounds were enough to drive her over the edge. The ticking of the clock never stopped, the sound of fingers smashing on the keyboard, and even the clicking of a pen that comes from outside the door. Her mind began to throwback to the times when she wasn’t like this— when she wasn’t anxiety-induced and angsty— and thought of how she used to love those little noises. How she even used to be the one that causes those noises, and thought to herself, how did it come to this? A montage of memories she was trying her best to forget flashed in her mind, the answer to her wonder, the answer as to why she preferred silence now. Although, when she think about it, even silence can periodically make her dizzy. The gears of her optimistic mind were tarnished by pessimism and psychological disorders.

A loud and shrill ringing penetrated the uncomfortable silence, and Mabel looked up from her lap so she can begin packing up. The counselor made no effort to try and stop her, and merely continued whatever he was doing in his portable microcomputer. She slung her brown messenger bag over her head and onto her shoulder. The memory of it being a gift given to her by her Grunkle Ford entered her thoughts; especially on how she assumed that it was something her Grunkle Stan bought and claimed to be given by the previously mentioned relative.

Nobody bothered to bid the other farewell as Mabel left the confining space with relief. She was so relieved that she actually considered not having an emotional breakdown in a heavily vandalized bathroom stall, but the option was quickly rejected.

The journey to the restroom was quick and stressful. The running made her tired and she wanted to inhale some air through her mouth so she can regulate her breathing, but a little bit of vomit rises to her mouth every time she part her lips so she had to force her nose to breathe in the amount of air that her body is begging. Counseling was supposed to make her feel better, but why is she suffering from it? She slammed a stall door open after the second someone opens the door, not caring if she was cutting the line through her action. She crouched in front of the toilet, let her hand grip on the walls instead of the dirty seat, and opened her lips. Most of those pent up anxiety left her system through the form of puke, and it kinda made her feel even more bad. The little bit of stomach acid and the bile burned her tongue, but she can’t stop, not now that she started it. The sound of her regurgitating made everyone in the room leave, whether it was to respect her privacy or it was because they don’t want to deal with whatever drama she’s been through, and she was more than grateful for their action.

It didn’t take her long to stop vomiting, making sure she flushed all the puke before leaving the stall. There were some of the lunch-bile mixture clinging to the skin inside her mouth that prompted her to gargle some water. After spitting the dirty vomit-water mix that was in her mouth, she let her body fall to the wet tiled floor and pour all her emotions out through cries and screams. So many tears were already cascading down her sweaty cheeks that it was pointless to wipe them away right now. She grabbed some paper towels from the dispenser to wipe the gross snot that was coming out of her nose. This was the third time she cried this week, and it has only been Monday, that it was starting to get really pathetic.

Loud sobs and extreme hyperventilation echoed throughout the grimy bathroom for about half an hour before the sobs died down and what’s left is the hyperventilation. When a partial silence had befell the room, she began to hear soft pitter-patter sounds that came from the small stained-glads window that was in the room. “I didn’t bring an umbrella today,” she told herself and buried her head on her knees. If this wasn’t her life’s rock bottom, then she’s too scared to even think of what it is. Deciding that she’s finished “crying like a pathetic loser”, the girl stood up from her spot. Not bothering to pat the dirt that must have been on the soft cloth of her short skirt, she moved towards the sink. She turned the faucet on and splashed water towards her dirty face, rubbing the sensitive skin from time to time. Her hands had practically memorized this scene as she doesn’t even need to open her eyes to grab some paper towels so she can dry her face.

She didn’t bother to fix her appearance, assuming that nobody is at the school at this point and time. The door loudly creaked open when she opened it then she quickly shuffled out of the bathroom as quietly as possible before closing the creaky door in front of her. There was a faint slam sound that resonated throughout the hallway that if people were there, they’d check to see what caused the noise. The brunette began walking away with her head bowed down, a habit she had formed over the course of the 2 weeks she was here, but didn’t go so far because while she was quietly thinking why all the doors in this school was so old and noisy, she accidentally bumped into something warm.

Her eyes observed the white cotton button down shirt and black skinny jeans, inhaling sharply when she realized that it was a person. By the lack of boobs, she can assume it was a guy, but it’s 2018 so you can never be too sure about their gender. Her head were still pressed against their chest, unwilling to move in fear of making a mistake. An awkward silence had already befell them and she wasn’t getting any less uncomfortable. “Aren’t you going to apologize?” Their voice was deep, an attractive kind of deep that made Mabel’s rib-banging heart slightly flutter for a second, and they had a rather arrogant speech pattern.

Mabel flinched at their words before stepping away from the person, she looked up to see who the owner of the voice was. Her olive skin paled the minute her cowardly chestnut irises met with their— his since she knows very well who the person was now— cocky chocolate ones. “W-William Cipher?” She breathily exclaimed. Immediately, she averted her eyes away from his. “I’m so sorry,” She quickly muttered before looking down and stepping aside to resume walking. Her breathes were ragged from her previous emotional breakdown and from how fast she was walking. The fearful brunette attempted ignoring the heavy daunting feeling in her mind, or the footsteps that’s fast approaching her.

“Wait!” Cold hands placed itself on her wrists and harshly pulled her facing him. “I heard you say that you didn’t have an umbrella today and maybe do you want me to drive you home?” His hand remained the same even when he caught sight of the uncomfortable feeling that reflected in her eyes. She wanted to refuse, she was too scared of him after all, but then she’ll have to walk 6 miles under the rain. It’s tiring enough to walk 6 miles to and from school everyday, she didn’t want to do so while having a cold.

The haughty teen that stood in front of her assessed the conflicted and hesitant expression that adorned her face. Her nose was rosy and he could see the gentle freckles adorning the scarlet that dusted her cheeks. Eyelids carrying a harsh puffiness to them, lips were as red as the moon during a lunar eclipse, and limbs shivering from the coldness of his hand. His smirk widened when he could see her previously reluctance dissipate and turn into cautious acceptance. “So, what do you say, Shooting Star?” He took notice of the enamel shooting star earring that hung from her right ear when he asked the question. Finding amusement when she blushed even more, possibly of embarrassment, and insecurely pretended to tuck in a strand of her hair just so she can cover the earring.

“O-Okay,” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but he still managed to hear her consent. Mabel’s answer couldn’t help but made the boy smile, and wondered what kind of entertainment can he possibly do to the broken brunette that stood in front of him. His hands detached itself from her shoulder and went back to his sides. “Thanks for the free ride,” She thanked softly.

“Free? I never said it was free,” He started with a smirk. At his words, Mabel began fearing for her life and— well, everything. Did he want money? Her family are already on debt. Did he want chest for school? She was too honest and lawful for that. Did he want sex? There were so many other guys and girls that’s turned on by his juvenile reputation. Did he want to murder her? Gladly. “Maybe we could come up with some sort of deal, what can you offer me in exchange of of me dropping you off?” His eyes twinkled in mischief when he uttered those words, and Mabel couldn’t help but worry even more.

“Um- uh- here.” Mabel pulled out something from her bag. It was leatherback and has a coffee brown color to it, 100 papers that was attached to it was creamy and clean. “It was supposed to be for my scrapbook, but there’s nothing interesting in my life anymore and therefore it has no use to me.” She lightly shoved the scrapbook to his chest.

He contemplated about it, looking very unappeased by the offer. Mable took note of that and bit her lip anxiously. Spotting a protruding pen from inside her bag, she pulled it out and grabbed one of his hands. “Here’s my number, if you want a friend to talk to, just text me through that.” She wrote exactly just that on his palm. The pen was shoved back into her bag the minute she finished, and she then turned to look up at the teen with a look of anticipation. “Does that count as equal?” She asked with a botox smile.

“Better than just a scrapbook,” He joked. “ So that’s a deal, right?”He extended the hand, that wasn’t written with anything, as an offering handshake to seal the deal. Mabel never let go of her lips, biting on the pink flesh even tighter as she contemplated on agreeing. Although it was pointless because either way he still has her number and her scrapbook, so she let her hand lock itself on his.

“It’s a deal.”


	2. Alstroemeria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> peruvian lily: friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yoooo I kinda got lazy at the end, so sorry about that... anyways!! I don’t even know what I did with thise chapter, just some mabel and bill bonding or something to get them a little close. Beware of possible typos ;)

Mabel found it weird being acquainted with the juvenile and infamous William Cipher— or as he preferred to be called, Bill. The way he “subtly” gets in her way or make them cross paths made her feel unusual mixed feelings of excitement and caution, and it’s a very constant emotion because he always tries his best to see her all the time. She have the same first to fourth period with him, and he bribes or threatens the teachers to make them change the sitting arrangement so he can be placed beside her. He followed her around like how a small animal is when they meet a human with food. He used to never even step foot in the art room, but he did during the times where she decided to attend a meeting for the Art Club.

“So you don’t really want to hang out with William, am I correct?” The counselor looked up from his clipboard to see her response. She averted her eyes away and bashfully wrapped her fingers around her forearm. Mabel contemplated about the question. Remembering the events of the week when he forced himself to sit beside her, but refuse to speak to her. The times when he sits beside her during Art Club and waited for her to decide that she was finished painting for the day, but leaves her alone to walk home afterwards after she rejects his offer of driving home. His behavior was confusing and nerving, but his company was okay.

“I mean, it’s okay. Recently, being even in the same room with him makes me calm and okay, but what he does in the room that relates to me makes me feel nervous,” She answered with a sheepish smile. She was antsy as she twiddled with her finger, even staring at it like it was the most interesting view in the world. “He keeps on insisting on driving me to and from school, rejecting his offer is starting to get tiring,” Mabel added. She knew the question wasn’t meant to be pressuring, but she still anxiously scratched her nails in tension.

“Did you not think he was trying to befriend you?” He typed something in his laptop for a minute before looking back at her and asking that question.

“Oh, we technically are already friends,” She answered. The counselor raised their eyebrow at the statement. “Last week, it was raining and I had to walk home because I walk home everyday. And he randomly offered to drive me home in exchange for something. I gave him my spare scrapbook and my number, saying that I’m giving him my friendship,” She explained. There was a slight pause of silence before he started typing again. The brunette bit her lip in anticipation for his next question.

“So you had a scrapbook? What do you usually put in those?” He relaxedly leaned back in his chair. His arms were crossed, pulling the cuffs of his button down shirt a little that it showed the end of his tattoo, and his legs were crossed.

“Well, it’s usually some events of my life. Like I have a scrapbook about the summer of 2012, and I was supposed to make a scrapbook about my first semester of high school in Gravity Falls. It has been a month and nothing good happened so far, so I thought of just giving it away,” She answered. She pulled her fingers apart and placed it on the arm rest of the chair as she looks up from her lap. “I was also planning on disposing the jars of glitter and my scented glitter pens, but it’s really one of the only things that reminds of the “good old days” so I just kept them,” She blurted. He looked at her analytically, the counselor didn’t even bother to conceal the fact he was observing her. She tapped her fingers on the wooden arm rest with a beat she wasn’t familiar to, she bit on the skin inside her mouth and peeled them off. Her eyes were looking away from him, and instead, stared at the jar of cheese balls that was on top of a shelf.

His eyes followed what she was looking at. “Do you want some cheese balls?” He stood up from his seat and reached over to the sealed jar of cheesy goodness. “My mother gave this to me last night, but she kinda forgot I was lactose intolerant. It’s probably her Alzheimer’s though, so I don’t have anything bad towards her,” He said and placed the snack on the desk in front of him before sitting back down on his swivel chair. Mabel quickly grabbed the unopened jar with delight, not minding the nervous feeling of anxiety at how greedy and gluttonous she looks, and hugged it.

“Ever since my Grunkle Ford started needing medicine, we didn’t really have enough money to buy stuff that we like and because of my brother’s...,” She trailed off. Her smile immediately turned into a frown. Sweat began to form on her skin, even though it was unusually cold, and another wave of nausea hit her hard. Bile rose from her mouth, but she had managed to swallow it. She fought hard, but lost and merely let horrible flashbacks flash in her mind. “I-I love cheese balls,” She awkwardly muttered in an attempt to change the conversation topic, an attempt to stop herself from having a panic attack.

“You have been friends with William, right?” He cleared his throat and crossed his arms again. She lightly nodded in response. “Can you tell him to attend his counseling sessions? He never attended a single one, and he really needs it.” He pulled his body back so his spine can rest on the cushion of the chair. Mabel bit her lip, another habit that she was forming, and heavily contemplated on it. She doesn’t particularly care about the boy’s mental wellbeing enough to agree to it, but there’s no harm in being a nice schoolmate too. But then again, he hangs out with the students of much higher status, with a much higher criminal record to accompany the mentioned status, and it’s too intimidating for her. Plus, he hangs out with Gideon Gleeful, the boy who developed an obsession over her since she first got to Gravity Falls.

“I-I’m sorry—,” Her words were cut short when a knock came from the door. She stood up from her seat, indirectly telling him that she’ll get the door. After twisting the lock that was on the knob, the door immediately swung open. She had little time to back away from the hard wood, and it didn’t take long for it to smack her directly on her face.

“William, to what do I owe this visit?” Mabel instinctively took a step back to look at who was the one that almost broke her face. Her eyes caught sight of blond and thought that it was her best friend to which she then wondered why Pacifica would meet her counselor, but after hearing the name her counselor mentioned, she knew who it really was. “Come in, do you need some privacy?” The blurriness assuaged and she can now see the welcoming smile her counselor is flashing. Bill was smiling back, but it was more of a strained and I-genuinely-want-to-leave kind of smile.

“I just needed Mabel, we’re cutting together,” He answered with blunt honesty. Mabel wasn’t sure if she was hearing things or if did he really decide for her that she’s going to skip that last hour of school. “Come on, Shooting Star.” She could feel cold hands wrap itself around her wrist, and her legs moving along to the speed of whoever was tugging on her wrist.

“Wait, I never agreed to cutting with you.“ Mabel tried pulling her wrist away from him, unable to use her other hand because she was hugging the jar of cheese balls with it, but it was futile with how strong Bill surprisingly is. After all, with how underweight and skinny he was, one would think he was weak. “Where are we going, anyways?” She moved her legs faster in an attempt to reach up to how fast he was walking.

“Hey, where do you think you both are going?” The old Russian lady in the front desk asked. Bill stopped in his tracks and turned to the lady with a glare, ready to tell her off. Mabel felt her stomach sink at the idea of getting in trouble, hugging the jar closer to her, but the feeling fleeted away when a familiar voice spoke up.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Roskinski. I sent Mabel home because she was sick and William was nice enough to volunteer on driving her home since she usually walks home,” Her counselor lied. Both teenagers turned to the man with a perplexed expression. Mabel was impressed and slightly terrified at how good he was at lying, because if she didn’t know the truth, she would’ve thought that was the truth. “Go on, now. We’re legally not allowed to give you youngsters pills, and Mabel here really needs some medicine,” He said and did a shooing motion.

Bill didn’t hesitate and resumed to dragging her to whoever-knows-where, and Mabel gave off a quiet “hey” at this. “Let me go, I’m not leaving you. Just tell me where we’re going,” She demanded. The two finally slowed down, and he let go of her wrist. She rubbed her numbly throbbing wrist while walking with him.

•••

Mabel’s heart couldn’t help but flutter at where she was taken. Her heart pounded in her chest in excitement and joy. “This is... this is so beautiful,” She whispered as she slightly caressed the rough white surface with the back of her hand. “And these are just lying around your house?” She turned around to face the blond boy that was leaning on the door frame.

“Yeah, my mom tried to have an art hobby, but abandoned it. So it’s just there now,” He casually said and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You can pleasure yourself with all these surprisingly complicated art stuff,” He added before grabbing a chair nearby chair and sitting down on it. Mabel silently squealed in delight and grabbed the untouched art apron that hung on a metallic wall hook. She tossed it over her body, and skillfully tied the string on her back.

“I should’ve brought my jars of glitter.” She was pouting before shrugging it off and walked around the room to grab everything that she needs. “But I already have a painting in mind, anyways. And it doesn’t involve glitters,” She muttered before walking to take a seat in front of the creamy white canvas that was leaning on a wooden easel. Mabel took notice of how much wooden stuff Gravity Falls has before shaking her head of any though other than her art idea. She squirted some paint on the palette, and noticed a plastic cup that was already filled with water.

“I noticed in Art Club that you always fill a cup with water before you start painting, so I prepared it for you,” He explained. Mabel furrowed her eyebrows, wondering why he is eerily so nice to her, but shrugged it off to start painting.

“Thanks,” She briefly said before dipping the bristles of the paint brush on the paint, beginning to paint.

Bill smirked to himself, amused at how easy it is to gain Mabel’s trust. She was entertaining and interesting, in his opinion. He had been watching her since Gideon made a deal with him on something about winning her heart or something like that two summers ago. Although he was surprised at first that it was her when he saw her walk through the black metal gate of Gravity Falls High School last January with a frown and sorrowful expression in her eyes. Being compared to the cheerful and optimistic ones she used to have when she was 12, it was a huge change for the people who knew her back then. Pacifica, some blond girl who slowly and gradually went from being Mabel’s rival to closest friend, is the only one who knows what happened to her. If Candy and Grenda were here, they would have been the ones to know, but the first mentioned of the two moved back to Korea and the latter went to another country as their future queen or something.

His mind wandered to the leather scrapbook that was sitting on his study table. He remembered the foam stickers that spells her first name that was on the first page, and a picture of her doing a selfie with a polaroid camera above it. There were hearts and flower stickers that decorated the page. He thought of peeling every single one of the stickers and the photo off, but decided against it. Instead, he ripped the page off and placed it in his drawer.

His eyes watched every single movement Mabel does, how she has a habit of brushing her thumb on the handle part of the brush whenever she’s about to sweep the canvas with the bristle or how she bites her lip when she paint tiny strokes that makes little intricate details. She puts down the brush after the whole canvas was covered in arrays of color to tie her hair. She had a pink scrunchie that was on her left wrist and used it to bind her long hair together, so it can get out of the way whenever she turns and moves. She closes her right eye whenever she paints minuscule details in the painting, assuming it was because she was nearsighted with her left eye. He took notes of this, and thought, maybe this is what he’ll just use the scrapbook for. He’ll use the scrapbook for every information he finds out about her. He had been collecting those ever since he saw her back when he was 12, and it stuck to his mind for 3 years apparently. 

Her eyes lit up as she looked at the progress that she’s been having at her little art project. Bill moved from his spot and walked towards behind where she was sitting, peering down at the realistic painting. “What is it supposed to be?” He suddenly spoke up. Mabel jumped in surprise and turned to face the tall blond boy. She had pain on her cheeks, but a radiant smile on her lips.

“It’s a field of forget-me-nots during a meteor shower,” She answered before turning back to the canvas. “I like shooting stars and I like forget-me-nots, so I drew both of them in a single painting,” She shortly explained before resuming on painting. He watched a little closely on how she paints. How she gracefully moved the brush along to how she wants it to be. After she spoke, the room was followed by a serene silence. 

A serene silence that was broken by Ellie Goulding’s hit song, Love Me Like You Do, an hour after. “Oh, that’s Pacifica,” She informed with a giggle and pulled out the phone from her bag. She pressed the green “accept call” button and pressed the device ln her ear. “Hey, girl,” She prolonged the word ‘girl’ as she greeted the blond woman that was over the phone.

“Hey, it’s 8:30 in the evening, where are you?! Stan is worrying so much!” Mabel’s face scrunched as moved the phone away from her ear.

“Oh shoot, really?! I’m sorry, I just had a little too much fun after school,” She chuckled as she pressed the device in her ear again.

“Well, you better come home. Also, why in hell did you skip the last hour of school? That is so unlike you,” Pacifica said through the phone.

“Oh, yeah. Bill took me to his house for I-don’t-know what reason, and he showed me their art room. Girl, I feel like I’m in heaven,” Mabel gave a short chortle after explaining.

“Bill? What? Whatever, just get your ass here. God, why did I think living with you was a good idea?” Pacifica huffed.

“Well, it’s either me or a cardboard box with your parents,” Mabel remarked.

“You make a good point,” Pacifica dejectedly replied.

“Anyways, going now. See you later, cheerio, Pacifica!” Mabel waited for her blond friend to press the “end call” button. The minute the call ended, she removed the apron and tossed it on the chair she was sitting on. “I need to go now, Grunkle Stan is getting worried and Pacifica doesn’t want to deal with whatever pestering he’s doing,” She chortled at her words.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll drive you there,” He offered. Mabel thought about his offer. She really didn’t want to inconvenience him, but it’s really not an inconvenience if he asked, right? She can’t walk back now, it was too dark and late. She could call a cab, but she can’t afford to add anything in her budget. Biting her bottom lip, she had come to a decision.

“Sure, but I don’t know how I can repay you. The last time you gave me a ride home, you wanted to make a deal—,” She was cut off when Bill began talking.

“No, you don’t have to pay me anything. This is part of our friendship,” He said. Mabel raised an eyebrow at this.

“Gas is expensive, you shouldn’t be wasting it on me,” She said with a look askance. “I would try my best to pay you, probably not with money,” She insisted.

“Is that so?” He couldn’t help but smirk as she suck her teeth.

•••

“Holy shit, Mabel! How did you bring a Cipher in your hovel, little, shack?!” Pacifica ran towards her with a hug as she yelled in amazement.

“Mabel Pines, did you just bring a Cipher into my house?!” Loud, creaky thuds came and was followed by the synchronized voices of Mabel’s great uncle’s yelled.

“Accept his offer, I thought. Accept his offer, I did.” Mabel wanted to kick herself, but not now. Pacifica pulled away from the hug with a contained smile. “So, yeah. You saw them already. They saw you already. Can you leave?” She crossed her arms and pouted.

“Nobody wants you here, Cipher boy!” Grunkle Stan yelled with his really old grandpa voice.

“That hurts my feelings, you know,” He mockingly clutched his chest in fake hurt.

“Whatever,” Mabel rolled her eyes with a slight chuckle. “Leave before Grunkle Stan smack you with his walking stick,” She joked and gave him an awkward huh, complete with the awkward pat on the back.

“Well, Shooting Star, since you really want me to leave,” He returned the hug with a triumphant grin. “I’m leaving now. It’s getting super late too,” He said before pulling away. Mabel waved at him good bye, to which he returned before boarding his car.

“Mabel, we’re gonna have a very long talk tomorrow,” Ford said after Bill’s car disappeared to the horizon. The girl sighed at this before entering the shack. “Also, who gave you cheese balls?” He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as they walk inside the rundown house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bill still just want Mabel because she’s easy to manipulate, to which the irony of the chapter title is hehe she thinks he’s warning up to her, but he’s just really winning her trust or something

**Author's Note:**

> ya’ll constructive criticism is super duper accepted
> 
> also if you guys are wondering what the chapter title means, it's actually from the scientific name for daffodil and not the Greek dude who fell in love with himself lmao


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